


Twisted Love

by MatthewTheFadeStrider



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Betrayal, Bets, Broody, Denarius - Freeform, Elf, Fear, Fereldan, Hilarious, Hurt, Inquisition (referance), Jealousy, Jokes, M/M, Monologue, Pick Up Lines, Pranks, Sebastian (referance), Sebastian/Isabela, Small Talk, Tricks, Varric Tethras - Freeform, diologue, fears, hapless, heartbroken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatthewTheFadeStrider/pseuds/MatthewTheFadeStrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My random drabbles concerning the betrayals, heartbreaks, and among other things - sometimes sex - that entails with the love triangle of Anders, Fenris, and Andel Hawke. He was the last Hawke I played before I began on Inquisition...</p><p>Maker Bless him, he was so much drama rapped into one hilarious ball of sarcasm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Did This

_Damn him._

Same words Fenris had spoken (and thought) over and over whilst sitting alone, staring at the fire during the time Hawke was out with Varric, Isabela, and - his new found apostate dream of a mess - Anders. I suppose it was his fault, wasn't it? He wanted this...he'd walked out on Hawke, he'd been the one to break things off...

And yet...he found himself regretting it.

I suppose that was, inevitably, the story of his life. He walked away from things and looked back with guilt...

Still he felt betrayed. Hawke and him had disagreed so many times over, and yet he always showed an express interest in Fenris. Fenris had noticed the scant looks as he fell to a slower pace, the glances over his body when Hawke flirted with him. He remembered how Hawke had growled, _Did I say anything?_ His body had pressed right up against Hawke, falling into a bout of fiery passion that never died down. Hawke pushed them around, forcing Fenris into the wall and - without much room for question - took his lips. The next morning Fenris had done what he thought was right, he'd sent him away

**_It's not you, it's_ me?**

He'd sounded hurt, and who could blame him. Fenris had to force himself away before he fought against instinct again...before he looked down at the male's strengthened bare chest and was forced into regretting his actions - calling them back - looking into the male's eyes and tell him he didn't mean it. He'd tore himself away before he'd had the chance to reach out his arms and embrace the other. At this point, part of the reason why he'd felt betrayed was because he'd opened up to him...he'd told Hawke he never wanted to get close to someone. He'd told him his story, told him how he found the Fog Warriors, about his guilt over betraying them.

But life was a joke to Hawke...his story probably was nothing more than a joke as well...

He always was sarcastic, he always joked. His wit, his ability to say what was on his mind...that was what Fenris fell in love with. Regardless of the sex, of how the male had rammed his head up against the head-board over and over...of how he'd made Fenris feel something more than an equal...he'd given him everything that night. Fenris cracked his knuckles, and realized truly...

He shouldn't be feeling betrayed, as much as guilty I suppose. Hawke had bore his heart, had pressed his body to him when things settled into a breathless state, held him into a silent smile, and had continued that way until Fenris had slid out of bed...into his clothes. Somehow, he couldn't allow himself to leave - even though Hawke still remained sleeping...  
  
He could have...slipped out. Just gone without a further review or notice...but even then...it didn't seem right to do so. He waited until the male awoke, and then apologized even if it was more glorious than he could have thought to dream. As Fenris looked at the empty bottle from a week ago, he blinked at the glass. He'd kept it, because it had meant something to him...the last bottle...one bottle...shared with Hawke...  
  
What he'd considered, at the time, his Hawke. Yes, they'd fought, yes they'd disagreed...but in the end they got along on the premises of a common enemy. He refered to him when killing Hadriana, and tried to find solace for Fenris after. He remembered the look in Hawke's eyes, the desolation...  
  
Like internally he was clawing at nothing, hoping Fenris wouldn't leave, wouldn't speak of the statements he did. He must have hoped he'd turn around with a shake of his head, stating that he was conflicted. Hawke had the look in his eyes...that was like a man who'd lost anything and everything all at once.  
  
And then the mage.

It wasn't until that point that Fenris realized he truly couldn't tolerate his presence. Before, to Fenris, he'd thought of him as an ally of an ally...someone he had to tolerate because Hawke had a close bond. There was a small time, where-in Fenris still stood at Hawke's side...in a sense. He'd traveled with him for a while, battled along the wounded coast for months...

But the more time Fenris walked, never saying a word to Hawke about that night...the more distance, the more pain that cloded the male's bright saphirine eyes. His dark hair, curled back looked ruffled sometimes...

Fenris, one night, kept an idle eye out from the shadows, on Hawke. He'd watched Andel Hawke meander out from a drinking competition between him and Varric...(again)...down towards Darktown. At first, Fenris didn't question it, (not even when he wandered to Anders clinic). He heard them speaking in hushed tones, but it was far beyond closing time for Anders's clinic and so Fenris had grown suspicious. He remembered himself peaking around the edge of the door, looking in upon the scene before him.

 _The templars were practically at my doorstep the other night._  
  
They were after you?

_No, just checking up upon refugees camps. But this place isn't exactly a secret...it's only a matter of time..._

_If they want to hurt you, they'll have to go through me to do it.  
_

Fenris felt wrong for spying on Hawke, but a night later...he was glad he did. He had gotten up, as usual, to join Hawke - when he was informed that Isabela was the one to be going with Varric and Anders tonight. It was...alien to Fenris...and almost made him a little jealous. It was always, he, who stood beside the male as they tore their way through slavers, bandits, and maker knows what else. But he didn't make an issue of it, deciding that he'd busy himself with the book Hawke had given him to read. As time wore on, Hawke requested less and less of his presence, and had taken more to Anders. Fenris, sometimes, would find out from Varric that Anders had comforted, shown affection for, and even went out - with no-one else around - with Anders. This made Fenris...very unhappy...  
  
Weeks past, and when Leandra died Hawke was distraught. Anders had been around far to much for Fenris's liking, so he decided to pay the man a visit...remind him who he was with...prove he could be there for him. But he was to late. When he got there, Anders had Hawke in his arms, the two speaking soft and sweet words to one another. Fenris had turned and left, not wanting to look back before he found himself in to much of a rage. It must have taken hours, and several furniture items broken, before the male had settled onto the bench. Now here he was...

Two nights later..

Alone again...

With only the knowledge passed from Hawke, to Isabela, to Varric, to him...that Hawke had slept with Anders. Betrayed as Fenris felt, I suppose he shouldn't have been surprised. He shouldn't be surprised, and that's exactly why he's dwelling on it. The feeling of betrayal was no better a dilating poison than the one he'd felt as a slave...

Fenris only wished Hawke had at least chosen someone other than Anders...

If anyone.


	2. The Things I fear

"This is why Mages will never be free. When even freedom is condemned to wandering Fereldan's hapless land with no rhyme, reason...not even a goal."

"Hapless? I was born here, you know." Andel pushed playfully on Anders's right knee with his tanned knuckles. But his response was hollow, for he cared nothing of Fereldan personally. It was where he came from, but certainly not somewhere he wanted to go back to again. Part of the reason why he stayed away from the land, back in Kirkwall, was because the memory of Bethany's death was scalded into him. The first year he'd had nightmares, terrorizing dreams of Bethany being ripped to shreds by the Ogre's foul claws. The Ogre's acrid breath like a seeping mist into Andel's subconscious mind, eyes like dark swords dancing amidst a bloody thrall as the blood dripped down it's monstrous body. There were few things that Andel had feared in his life...

He'd destroyed countless Darkspawn in the Deeproads, stood up for the mages when Knight Commander Meredith had been driven insane by the Idol, faced down the Arishok and remained standing via one-on-one combat...

Not to mention how many men and women he'd been attacked by in his days of the Free Marches. Maker knows he couldn't take one step out of his estate without someone wanting to swoop in...take his head on a pike and carry it like a flag of pride.

But there were three things he feared...and it was so Ironic that they were all intertwined with the one thing that gave him hope.

He feared losing Anders, feared losing the sweet touch of the male's palms against his back...or the sweet sound of his voice on dark, cold nights when he felt more alone than one could possibly imagine. It was him who drove him into battle, him who made him heat up in solitude, him...

It was always him.

Whether that would be saving him from Sebastian's men, the Templars, or even his own enemies...

He fought for him.

The second was trapped inside this male.

Justice or, as it had become, Vengeance was a terrible force to behold. The force could rip down those with the power of might that was unmatched and untamed. It was wild, even more so than Andel's untamed curled back hair (that looked ruffled in some places and bedridden in others no matter how many times he combed it through). His eyes sparkled with the power of a man's truest raw power...and that made Hawke fear.

He reasoned with Anders, but couldn't reason with...it.

He tried to be kind to Anders, tried to be supportive even if it meant endangering himself...

He feared that he may wake to see Templars - and Justice may make sure it's their last stand...as well as his.

He'd never seen the spirit turn on him before, but he wasn't so sure it couldn't happen. If Justice doesn't approve of him, _maker_ \- think of what he could do if he managed to fight Anders's control off for a final time. And it was so Ironic, for it was the same reason why Andel refused to leave...he wanted to help the troubled soul Anders had become...

Because he loved him, against all odds, against all pressure, against all that opposed them...

Nothing was more important than love to Hawke, even if it meant endangering his life to save it.

And the third, was the thought of Justice bonding with him. As strange as it was, it was safe to say that he preferred to keep Justice at an emotional distance, and yet not so far as to let him off leash. If Justice bonded to him, fell in love with him as Anders had, Andraste knows where that could lead...

He didn't want a raging spirit trying to kill everyone around him in order to keep Hawke safe. Hell, Hawke wouldn't even trust Varric to be around if it came to that...

It was a hard thing - kind of like a Bait and Switch...if you triggered the trap before it was ready, it could be disastrous...

But if it didn't trigger, then you could be stuck with nothing but fear as your last breaths curdled into blood.

Andel had usually left the trap-making to Varric, which is probably why he was so confused on the matter.

Reaching out his arm, Andel settled it across Anders's lap, "You should have kept writing your Manifesto." He encouraged, blinking at him as he tried to shake the memories, thoughts, and twisted emotions from the depths of his twisted mind.

"I told you when we left, we've discussed this before...it wasn't going to work out...not with us on the run. Perhaps someday...I'll go back, retrieve it...perhaps we can finish it together, then." A smile, then sorrow. "I know this hasn't been easy on you. Being in Fereldan...I want to assure you it's not all for no-"

Hawke silenced Anders with his lips before the mage could even speak the word. Andel hated that word, after all. When he leaned back, he ran a thumb along his cheek. "You know that N word always makes me cringe." He spoke softly, voice a dripping whisper amongst the sounds of the flames crackling beside the two. "I have you, and that is so much better than sitting with Varric playing Diamondback on a boring morning anyways." Sarcasm, as always. "I mean, who cares if I could rob him of every last coin..." He jested, but it was the truth. His best friend was Varric, but his loyalties will always rely on Anders's place.

"You're so much better than I deserve..." He spoke softly, leaning into Andel's shoulders. They sat like that, and as time ticked away Andel knew that dawn was to fast approaching for his liking. He didn't want to move from this place in time, he wanted to hold Anders like this without fear...

But he knew, realistically, he couldn't...not with the opposing forces so hot on their trail.

"We must go..." Andel said reluctantly. "Unless we wanted to be dragged back to Kirkwall to have our heads put on a pike..." More sarcasm, as usual.

"Or martyred by Sebastian's twisted sense of justice?" The word on Anders's lips was something of a spike being poked into his heart. He couldn't hear the word without flinching anymore.

"That could be, hmmm...I wonder if they have good accommodations for the dead in Starkhaven?" Andel pondered quietly, speaking with his eyes softly closed.

"I doubt you'll be sitting in a castle, if that's what you're believing." Andel felt his lover's smile settle against his shoulder as the words flowed.

"Oh, and here I thought I was going to be given the viscounts crown whilst I settle into the dead's royalty. Hmm...perhaps a cape, and a royal staff with the glinting head of a serpent on it...oh - and I'll even commission a statue of a golden cat to sit between us whilst we rot in our thrones."

"Well, with the tattoos you wear around your eyes - I don't think it would take to much coaching for you to look like a skull." Banter, and old quality that only Hawke could bring out in Anders these days.

"Those are my father's choosing..." Andel drawled mildly, "Save only for my...wild choosing of the black spikes above my eyes...now those were my decision. A man's got to have integrity as well as amazing looks after-all..."

"You bring out youth in me, love..."

"It's a specialty of mine..."

They held each other, a bittersweet moment as they leaned back to look into each-other's eyes. Hawke saw the glinting reflection of himself amidst his favorite hazel eyes, and held it there for a moment. His own cobalt blue specs glinted back at him softly - and in that moment Hawke saw clarity again. Even despite the fear and the running...his place was here in Anders's arms.  
"We should get moving." He said, more seriously, "I really don't want to end up as Sebastian's personal throne rug. I like my body without rips in it's skin..."A smile, and they set off...walking quietly into the next morn. They bothered to put out the fire before setting off again...Recently, Andel had heard of an Inquisition...perhaps they could go there. If the rumors were true, they didn't seem to mind any help they could get. A warden and a champion wouldn't be to bad of allies...even if they brought their enemies...


	3. Brevity Is the Soul of Wit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by ScottKHLuv (YouTube account, as he doesn't have one on Archive)
> 
> 'I want them to make a bet on whether Andel, or another character, can get Sebastian out of his 'choir boy' behavior...don't skip out on the bets, my friend.'

_Everyone needs a good smiting._  
  
Andel blushed as he thought of what Isabela said...and it took a lot to make Andel Malcolm Hawke blush. Especially the kind that showed up, even through his darkened peach fuzz that hung on his face in a dark outlining fashion. Between the dark tattoos on his face, his curled back black hair, and the thick dark stubble that settled around his jaw, he was...

Let's just say he looked like someone you'd expect to find after an adventure of rolling around in muck for an hour or so. He couldn't help it either, for it wasn't his fault.   
  
Originally, Andel had long hair that was tied back while some hung around his shoulders...long and blonde with deep hazel eyes and a clean-shaven jawline that made women and men swoon and fall to their knees alike. He could turn his back and flick his hair and he'd have fifteen different fereldans following him like lost Mabari puppies all at the same time. He'd shared his father's looks, as Malcolm was a blonde like him...in contrast to the rest of his family's dark hair. He'd been so proud his first born had blonde hair like him...

His eyes had positively gleamed whenever Hawke had stepped into the room...  
  
This changed by accident when he ran into a mirror in the black emporium. He was never the same again, as his look changed from a beautifully hansom (and clean-shaven) blonde with bright hazel eyes...  
  
To a dark looking goth with bright blue eyes and a (very dark) five-o-clock shadow.

Just.

Like.

That.

His, now scruffy, look had shocked the hell out of his family...

Even Carver about fainted at the time.

Not that this seemed to take away from his looks...

He still seemed to have garnered the notion of Kirkwall's most eligible bachelor. Somehow, although Andel Hawke couldn't figure out how it became, he seemed to get even more attention. Even though, in his own eyes, he looked like an overgrown black Mabari turned human. Mayhaps his looks gave him that of someone with a dangerous edge? Someone that could fight in a pinch and had a dark past? He heard once people were attracted to that...

None-the-less, nobody caught his attention, but two (very opposite) males...

The first, was Fenris...

His dark looks, searching eyes, brooding demeanor, and righteous demeanor had attracted him despite his harsh opinions on magic. Andel had a lusted over hatred for him, that smoldered like the fire-magic he used on a regular basis.

Then, Anders...

His righteous demeanor, shadowed past, even the scar of his 'spirit friend' had made Andel both swoon and grown genuinely curious. Sometimes, he would come to the clinic and aid Anders on his day off. More than once, Anders had become uncomfortable when Andel had joked about how their names sounded so much alike. It wasn't until years later that he found out Anders's name wasn't really Anders. He'd claimed he'd kept the silence about the truth behind it...

Andel had even learned the name that night, but had never revealed it to anyone thereafter. He wouldn't betray Anders's sincere trust on the matter, not now...not ever. It was a secret between them, even now...

Andel had felt proud that he knew something than no-one else had ever known about him, but he was also to proud to let anyone know about this source of honor.

But, what really attracted Andel, was his tingling fear and attraction towards Anders and his backseat passenger. As a Spirit Healer, like Anders himself, Andel felt the urge to help Anders...to heal him...as it were...with this struggle. He felt the need to heal Anders...to help him...

As Andel walked his way up to the door of his estate, arms once again full of items collected, (he saved everything he acquired on his adventures) he struggled the door open. Anders was there, apparently having closed the clinic early today. As soon as Andel appeared, through the door, the apostate rushed to help him with anything he could. Andel had chuckled, but after some pushing, had agreed to give up some of the items (even though he was fifteen-some yards from his target and had already carried them for a few miles now). Once they got the items put away Anders, had given a glance to their surroundings, then leaned into him. It was a typical gesture they used, having decided it was best not to flaunt in front of the house dwarves or Leandra. The Mabari was fine, for Arcane didn't give two dog-craps whether they intertwined themselves in a passionate kiss or not. Giving a second glance to the room, Anders seemingly decided that the green flag was up, and it was safe to hold Hawke into a silent vivacious greeting of lips and tongues.

No words were exchanged at first, just a voracious warmth that spread through-out Andel and caused him to press up against his dominion lover. Andel always took the bottom in comparison, having been the smaller of the two (thank the maker for "small" miracles). When the two finally pulled back, Hawke couldn't help but pant. "Lovely greeting as always. I should just leave and come back home more often..." As Hawke's favorite sound, Anders's quiet chuckle, filled his ears...he couldn't help the lopsided grin that settled on his face. Bringing out Anders's more lighthearted side had become Andel's goal in life. "I take manning the clinic gave you more idle time than expected, then?"

"Less and less refugees are coming in every day." He elucidated, "It suppose that means that they're either heading home, or finally settling into normalcy..."

"You never know, Anders." He teased, "Perhaps they've found the last source of cats and are currently consuming them today."

"That isn't exactly funny!" He sounded distressed.

"You WERE the one who got that joke on the ground running, you know..."

"None-the-less..." He gave him sad kitten eyes, making Hawke's mouth twist.

"Alright, Alright. Sweet Maker, you can make a man, sworn to chastity, engage a whore with those eyes..."

"I would like to make a bet on that...perhaps we should try Sebastian?" Anders said, his lips curling up a bit.

This joking response actually made Hawke bark out a laugh.

 

*

 

The moral of the story children: It was bad enough to reveal a joke about a bet to Varric Tethras, (for he might just take it to the next level out of amusement) but revealing it to Isabela and Varric? May the black city come crashing down upon the earth, for that was just as merciful...

Hawke was still regretting the decision to do so over a drunken laugh years later.

And Anders...

Well, Anders especially was, since he was the one who told it in the first place.

Decidedly, they would make Anders convince Sebastian to seduce Isabela in the hanged man. Bad...bad idea...

At the time...it sounded amusing enough...not to mention that it seemed, everyone aside from the unwitting (and not present) Sebastian, was going to have coin in it. Even Fenris was putting his coin into it...

Well...correction...everyone, aside from Marrill, who seemed to take the possibility literally, did so. "Oh, I think it's wonderful that you two are getting together..."

"They aren't getting together, they're..." Hawke had paused, sighing in the attempt of explanation, and then decided to finish with. "....it's...it's complicated." Before rubbing his forehead in the gesture they'd seen all to many times. It was his signature gesture for 'I'm not getting paid enough for this'.

Never-the-less, they went through with the bet.

"So a Dwarf, an Elf, and two Humans walk into the Chantry..."

"The humans realized the Templars were to dumb to recognize they were apostates, the elf tried to turn them in, and the dwarf tied him up and threw his broody-" He paused remembering he was in the maker's home, "-him into the deep roads...permanently this time." Hawke answered before Anders did. Quietly, for he knew they were surrounded by the Templars.

"The obvious, Hawke. The obvious." Varric stated as if it was the nose on his face, but responding quietly as Hawke had whispered.

Anders had given a chuckle in response to Hawke's, even if it wasn't that funny, more ironic. "And here I was going to say something on the chest hair."

"The chest hair is a given." Varric said.

"He could tie him up with the chest hair. I assume it's thick enough he couldn't break free from it." Hawke suggested. "And he has enough of it it probably wouldn't take much time to grow back the same look."

Fenris slumped further, but gave a typically brooding grunt of disapproval. Not that Fenris could disapprove of Hawke's behavior anymore than he already did. Actually, at the rate Hawke was going, he could probably create a world record for 'getting Fenris's ire'. Even more than Denarius at this rate...

Varric and Anders however, were willing to give that one a pity chuckle.

They made it to Sebastian, and then Hawke set Anders up for the task.

"Hawke. It is a surprise to see you here so soon, given our confrontation in the morn of yesterday." Sebastian said, in that boring way he did.

Hawke responded, "I came to apologize," He said, as if another day in the park, "-and to state for the record and a new slate that Anders has a vital piece of information for you to attain."

Sebastian looked genuinely surprised. "Anders?"

Anders put up his best look, enough to outmatch the brooding elf, behind them, in a pinch. "Well you see..."

 

*

 

Hawke still couldn't believe it, even if he did love the guy. He'd given the most irresistible look, and convinced the bloody-blushing religious bastard at the same time...that Isabela had the hots for him, and that he should get to know her better.

Sebastian.

Of.

All.

People.

Even Hawke had so charmed by the process, even though he'd known the situation, he'd felt jealous.

Of.

Sebastian.

SEBASTIAN.

No wonder he'd escaped the Templars and had such a great friendship with, the Warden Commander, Mordred; he was bloody charming when he truly wanted to be.

And, no doubt, this would only pump up that portion of his ego...

Andel led the companions back to the hanged man, Sebastian trailing behind. When they made it there, everyone was in stealth and out of sight. Sebastian had swallowed, blushing a brighter red than wine.

"Come on, Seb. Think of it like one of your arrows...shoot it right in with precision and you've got things made." Andel gave him a rather crude piece of advice, clearly not helping Sebastian in any respect. Firstly, Sebastian hated Andel's chosen nickname, and second - he was such a 'cutesy' choir boy, that he apparently was completely overwhelmed with the sexual image. This should be interesting...

Particularly since Isabela knew the situation already.

Andel would preferably be out of the radius of Sebastian's firing range when the truth about things was revealed; however, for it was rather a parsimonious joke to play on a guy...let alone a overly prude and rogue prince.

 

*

 

Stumble fucking his way through things, he had asked Hawke for a pick-up line, and set off to 'work'.

Hawke, Varric, Fenris, Anders, Marril, and - (after a time) the new betting group (namely) - Donnic, a few patrons that knew Varric, Cullen, the waitress, the bartender, a few others they'd met along the way, and even Aveline - were now sitting together (or roaming the hanged man inconspicuously, or even in hiding from Sebastian's line of sight) and laughing at every failed attempt. Cullen had been called here for a laugh by Hawke for 'a laugh', but was currently passed out on the table from one drink. Apparently Cullen couldn't hold his liquor...

Anders had left behind his staff, so as to seem like a normal patron...and not a wanted apostate.

Cullen seemed to bleary eyed to take note of anything anyways, and was now currently passed out on the table.

As far as Sebastian knew, they were all here to 'lend support'.

More like...lend support of their laughter until they were rolling on the floor.

They always tried not to act in a snicker whenever he'd look over.

But it was getting _harder and harder_ by the minute.

 

*

 

Hawke was leaning into Anders, buring his face into the male's shoulder. "You were amazing to set this amusing situation up, you know that?" He said, his voice somewhere between a drunken slur (with hiccups), and goofy laughter that was hardly contained at this point.

"I told you I was charming." A hiccup, of his own, followed the statement. This caused Hawke to let out a, not so masculine, giggle.

 

*

 

Isabela seemed to give a mercy gift on the poor, poor, fooled guy after his stumble fucking had taken a turn to the obvious, and pulled him back quietly.

"She had to ruin our fun." One of the patrons said drunkenly.

"Alright, who bet for over an hour?" Varric pulled out a notebook to tally the results up.

Everyone's hand raised, causing an uproar of laughter. Even Cullen, drooling on the wood as he was, raised his hand groggily.

 

*

 

Nobody won. They eventually just gave the money back, and shared several jokes, recapping the most hilarious things he'd said through-out the attempt.

Hawke cleared his throat once, doing a perfect impression that he couldn't repeat after that. "You are a gem that resides in my chest like the one on my bow..."

A uproar.

"Oh, but the one after that was the best." Someone concluded. "You sweet pirated gem you..."

Another laugh.

Anders spoke up, "My favorite was the one Hawke gave him, " He cleared his throat, doing a similar impression. "I most certainly am King in bed! Shall I prove it to you?" A laugh before he hiccuped into the next portion. "And the blush in his voice when he said it..."

"Priceless." Hawke finished.

It was a complete success...

Until the next morn.

That's when they had to hide from the bow coming for them...friends or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shut up Sebastian. Nobody likes you.


End file.
